The End Won’t Take Him : Ashes of the Last Light

Chapter 22

Kael had faced assassins, rebels, collapsing kingdoms, and a cursed battlefield where the sky cracked open like an egg.

He had not, apparently, faced a five-year-old who weaponized sarcasm and silence in five languages.

That morning at breakfast, the tension wasn't thick—it was sharp.

Kael sat at the head of the table, silent and unreadable as usual. I sipped tea like it was a shield. Elias sat across from him, chewing toast like it had personally betrayed him.

Kael, ever practical:

"We'll need to attend the northern summit together. The nobles expect a united front."

Elias, without blinking:

"Is that before or after your next emotional shutdown?"

Kael blinked, once. Slowly.

I nearly spit my tea.

At sword training that afternoon, Kael stood in his usual war stance: hands clasped behind his back, observing with military judgment as Elias practiced drills with one of the estate's instructors.

His stance was perfect. Elias's, I mean. The kid moved like a dancer taught by ghosts and sharpened by trauma.

Kael stepped forward. "Form is everything."

Elias looked him dead in the eyes and said, "So is personality."

The instructor turned around and pretended to examine a tree.

I excused myself to go "check the stables," which really meant I needed five minutes to laugh into my coat.

At dinner, Kael simply... existed.

Elias responded by sipping soup judgmentally.

No comments. No accusations.

Just a look.

It said: You're breathing, and I'm not impressed.

I pulled Elias aside after dessert, which was pie I didn't enjoy because the tension had curdled the cream.

"You have to stop attacking him."

Elias crossed his arms. "He's suspicious."

"He's structured."

"He's emotionally unavailable."

"So are you."

"I'm functional."

"You just faked an engagement with a man who doesn't smile."

I opened my mouth. Closed it. "...Touche."

He nodded, smug.

I sighed and pressed a hand to my forehead. "You don't have to like him. Just stop using all your mental energy trying to assassinate him with conversation."

"I'm not," Elias said.

I gave him a look.

He paused.

"Okay, mostly."

That evening, I sat in the study drafting a letter to a distant cousin about trade logistics. My quill snapped in half. I took that as a sign the economy could wait.

Kael passed me in the hall shortly after, heading toward the west wing.

He stopped beside me, not looking directly at me, just speaking in that deep, deliberate way of his.

"He sharpens his pencils with a whetstone."

I blinked. "I know."

Kael paused. "He reorganized the armory by estimated kill potential."

"He gets that from me."

Kael raised an eyebrow. "Do you also teach him the staring contest of doom?"

"No. That's natural talent."

He continued walking, but not before adding, "He placed a passive ward over my door."

I smiled sweetly. "Did it work?"

"Yes."

"Then you passed."

Despite the chaos, something had shifted.

Kael no longer looked at Elias like he was a problem to manage—but a storm to track. Dangerous, but predictable. Elias, for his part, seemed less like he wanted Kael gone, and more like he was... testing him.

Every snide comment, every silent stare, was a probe.

Would Kael snap?

Would he flinch?

Would he leave?

So far, Kael hadn't done any of those things.

Which, for Elias, was progress.

For me?

It was stress. Mixed with something that felt suspiciously like hope.

That night, I passed Elias's room and saw a candle still lit under the door.

I knocked.

"Come in," came the small, tired voice.

He was sitting cross-legged on the bed, sketching runes into a notebook with the intensity of someone solving a murder.

"Bedtime," I said gently.

"I was just... thinking."

I sat beside him. "About Kael?"

He hesitated. "I don't trust him."

"You don't have to."

"But you do?"

I thought about it.

"I trust what he's shown me so far. And I trust myself not to let my guard down."

Elias nodded. "Okay."

Then, softly: "If he hurts you—"

"I know," I said, brushing his hair back.

"I won't burn his estate," he added, serious.

"Wow. Growth."

"I'll dismantle it with math."

I smiled, kissed his forehead, and said, "Just get some sleep."

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End of Chapter 22